by RM Johnson
The woman quickly flipped onto her stomach, sobbing louder now. Her arms were stretched over her head, her palms still pressed together. She was praying again between her crying; Jahlil was not able to make out what she was saying.
He stepped closer, stood over her, lowered the gun to an inch above the dark curls of her head. He could see the white skin of her scalp and he started to feel dizzy again. Do it! Do it! he pushed himself. He had killed his best friend—taken him to that house, gotten him killed. It might as well have been him that pulled the trigger. And before that, he blew off Craig’s head when he thought the man was going to kill his father. He had taken a life before. Why was it so damn hard to kill this woman? Press the tip of the barrel to her head, look away, and pull the trigger, Jahlil told himself. There would be blood, brain, and bone on the floor, but the woman would never tell it was him, and he would not go to jail for this. So that’s what he would do.
Jahlil extended the reach of the gun till it stopped against the back of the woman’s skull.
She screamed, but Jahlil heard nothing, for his mind was a million miles away. He was a year in the future, where his little girl was crawling around on the living room floor before him and Shaun. Ten years in the future, where the three of them lived in a little house. Times were hard, but they stuck together as a family. And eighteen years in the future, where he and Shaun were dropping his daughter off at the university where she received a full scholarship.
Jahlil felt a slight smile on his face, then it quickly turned to a frown when he realized all those moments would be tainted by the memory of his pulling that trigger and murdering that woman so many years in the past in the back of that jewelry store.
He snapped out of his daydream, felt tears on his face, and was almost deafened by the still-ongoing screams of the woman.
The gun still to her head, he thought of telling her to shut up, then make her promise that she would never go to the police, but he knew she would say anything to save her life at that moment. The only thing he could hope is that she wouldn’t be able to give a good-enough description for the cops to find him. Knowing he did not want this woman’s death on his conscience, Jahlil pulled the gun from her head, then ran out of the store.
81
It was morning, and Caleb glanced down at his watch when he heard Blue’s voice mail pick up. “Yo, Blue, I know you’re not avoiding me ’cause I bailed on you last night. Give a brotha a call, and stop playin’, okay,” Caleb said, leaving his fourth voice mail in a half hour.
Caleb pulled on a shirt as he walked out of Austin’s guest bedroom into the kitchen.
He clicked on the small TV that sat on the kitchen counter, as he took the carton of eggs and a package of bacon out of the fridge for breakfast.
“And in breaking news,” a reporter announced, “suspects have been taken into custody in connection with a West Side robbery last night. The computer and electronics store was in the process of being robbed when a security guard stumbled upon the suspicious activity. Three men, Terrance Picket, Steve Smith, and Bobby “Blue” Oliver—”
The egg Caleb held dropped from his hand and smashed on the kitchen floor. He hurried over to the television to see the mug shots of all three men.
“Dammit, Blue!” Caleb said, slinging the plastic bowl he was holding across the room. “Goddammit!”
82
Jahlil sat on a bench on the high school campus.
He was still shaken from the robbery he had attempted last night but was happy that he was able to get out of there before the police had come. Jahlil assumed they hadn’t been informed, and even if the woman had called, she didn’t know his name or where he lived. To her, he probably looked like every other sixteen-year-old black kid in Chicago. No cops were banging on his door when he came home last night or when he woke up this morning. And no squad cars were there at school awaiting Jahlil today. He assumed he was in the clear.
When Jahlil had walked into the apartment last night, he wanted to apologize to his mother for the argument they had and for putting his hands on her.
He walked quietly through the rooms, stopped at her partially opened bedroom door. He knocked softly, and when she didn’t respond, Jahlil pushed the door open and stepped in. She was asleep.
Jahlil lowered himself to his mother’s bedside, listened a moment to the sound of her sleeping, and hoped that none of the horrible things he had done up to this point would come back on him. He would be better now.
He leaned over and softly kissed his mother on the cheek. “Sorry for everything, Ma, but I’m gonna be better. I promise,” Jahlil said, now planning to make the future he had envisioned last night with his family a reality.
This morning when he awoke, his mother had gone.
At school, for the first time in over a year, Jahlil was attentive in class. He raised his hand, answered the few questions he could, and had a real desire to learn the answers to the ones he couldn’t. He took notes, copied down his homework assignments, and didn’t once talk in class when he wasn’t supposed to.
After his social science class, as Jahlil was walking toward the door, his teacher, Mr. Bronson, asked him if he could come over to his desk.
Almost immediately, Jahlil felt himself covered with a nervous sweat. He walked over to the teacher, but the man didn’t say anything to him, just watched as the last few students filed out of the classroom.
Jahlil stood there, feeling light-headed. He stared out the classroom door, waiting to see police officers bust in, throw him to the floor, and handcuff him. That’s what this was, Jahlil told himself. The woman had told, and now it was all over.
When the last student exited, Mr. Bronson simply said, “You were very active in class today. Let’s keep that up, okay?” He smiled.
“That’s it?” Jahlil said.
“That’s a lot compared to how you’ve been behaving. Don’t you think?” Mr. Bronson said.
“Yeah,” Jahlil smiled. “Yeah, it is.”
Jahlil chose to eat his lunch outside alone today. The weather was warm, the sun was out, and the compliment his teacher gave him made him feel good, as though he was capable of anything.
Across the campus Jahlil saw Bug walk out of the lunchroom door. When Bug caught sight of Jahlil, he squinted across the hundred or so yards, as if to make sure it was him. When he seemed sure, Bug started quickly in Jahlil’s direction. He didn’t look like himself. He looked angered, distraught, and saddened all at the same time.
“Yo, what’s—” Jahlil said, but Bug hurried right up on him, and with both hands pushed Jahlil in the chest.
Jahlil fell backward onto the grass.
“You promised me!” Bug said, near tears. “You fucking promised!”
Jahlil pushed himself up on his elbows. “What are you talking about?”
“I just lost one best friend, and now I’m gonna lose you.”
Jahlil stood, brushing grass from his backside. “Bug, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid. Last night, you robbed a store. You robbed—”
“What? How did you know about that?” Jahlil said, shocked, throwing himself at Bug, grabbing him by his shirt.
Bug shook his head, dug into his pocket, and pulled out his phone. He tapped the tiny buttons, waited a second, then turned the screen so that Jahlil could see. What Jahlil saw was a surveillance video of him pointing his gun at the woman in the store, yelling something at her.
“It’s all over YouTube, man,” Bug said, angrily.
“YouTube? How the—”
“Police put this stuff on the Internet, askin’ for tips.”
Why didn’t he check for cameras? Jahlil thought. Why in the hell didn’t he check?
“It already got like five thousand views. Even some of the kids inside seen it and sending it to their friends. You promised you wouldn’t do it again, Jahlil.”
“I ain’t promise nothing,” Jahlil said, angry, pounding himself in the head with the s
ide of his fist. If that was all over the Internet, then it was just a matter of time before someone contacted the police, told them it was him. If that was the case, Jahlil didn’t have time to stand here and explain to Bug why he had made the worst mistake of his life. Would he run? Would he try to somehow take Shaun with him? Would he even tell Shaun? His mother? His father?
“Did you hear me?” Bug yelled. “Why?”
“Because I had to!”
“You could’ve come to me, or your folks. You could’ve—”
“And what the fuck would you have done, Bug?” Jahlil lashed out. “Or them? Ya’ll ain’t done nothing before. Why would this time be any different? Tell me, Bug. You yelling all in my face, telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing when you ain’t got the fucking problems I got.”
Bug was silent, his eyes forced down.
“Good-bye, Bug,” Jahlil said, turning and quickly walking away.
83
Monica sat opposite Daphanie at a downtown Starbucks.
She didn’t really know why, but she’d had the urge to call the woman, find out how she had been doing since reuniting with the baby, and the infant’s father, Trevor. Daphanie said she didn’t think it was wise to speak to her on the phone then and asked if they could meet out.
Sitting before Monica, drinking from a cup of black coffee, the woman looked tired and sad.
Daphanie frowned. “Things are horrible.”
“But you’re with your baby.”
“Am I? The baby is home with the nanny, not because I wanted to leave him, but because Trevor won’t allow me to take him away from the house. If the nanny is not there, I’m not allowed to be alone with the baby. I can’t feed him unsupervised, bathe him, care for him, love him, change his diaper—my own fucking baby!”
“That cannot be,” Monica said.
“He doesn’t trust me with him. He hasn’t said it, but I know he thinks I’ll try to take him or hurt him or something, I don’t know,” Daphanie said. “It’s torture being there, watching that woman he pays try to give my baby the care he should be receiving from me.”
“If you can’t stand it there, maybe you should—”
“Leave? Monica, I have no money, no job. I’m behind on my mortgage. I’m already getting calls from the bank about them foreclosing. I can’t go anywhere.”
Monica had millions in the bank, but she wasn’t going to help the very woman that tried to steal her ex-husband away. Besides, Daphanie said, “Even with all the restrictions, I know I can’t leave. At least this way I can be in the same house as my baby.” Daphanie dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye with one of her napkins. “If Nate wasn’t so damn stubborn … I know he could get my baby back.”
Something told Monica not to say anything about the offer that Nate had presented her, but she spoke regardless. “He said he would try to get your baby back if I come back to him.”
Daphanie looked up from the napkin pressed to her face. “What? What did you say?”
“Nate said if I come back to—”
“You’re gonna go, right?” Daphanie said, sitting up, scooting her chair closer to Monica, hope in her eyes.
“Of course not!”
“But my baby … Nate said he could—”
“He just said that, trying to play games. You know him almost as well as I do. The attorney already told you there’s nothing that can be done, that the contract is binding. Nate only said that trying to get me back with him.”
“Then go!” Daphanie said. “This is for my baby. Don’t be so fucking selfish!”
Monica leaned back in her chair, feeling as though she had been slapped. “What did you just say to me?”
“My baby was taken away and you have a chance—”
“Get it straight. Your baby wasn’t taken. You gave him away. You were made a fool of by Nate, and now you want me to sacrifice for your benefit. I’m smarter than that.”
Now it was Daphanie who appeared to feel she had been assaulted. “Heifer, smart is the last thing you are,” Daphanie said, leaning in over the table, lowering her voice to a bitter whisper. “Nate told me everything about you. He married you just to have his child. He cheated on and divorced you, and you went back to him. You got shot in the head, and just when you wake from your coma, he tells you he’s leaving you for me, ’cause you can’t give him a child. And what’s most pathetic, I look in your eyes, and I can see you still have feelings for him.”
A tear rolled down Daphanie’s cheek. She angrily brushed it away as she stood from the table. “Yes, I’m the fool he used once, but I’m trying to get his ass back for that. You’re the fool he uses over and over again, but you sit there like a scared little bitch, afraid to do shit about it.”
Daphanie shouldered her purse, wiped at her face again and said, “Fuck you, Monica. Don’t ever call me again till you’re woman enough to give that motherfucker Nate what we both know he deserves.”
84
Lewis felt good as he turned the corner onto his block.
At work, earlier this afternoon, Eva had called him into her office. She was sitting behind her desk when he stepped in.
“Close the door,” she said.
Lewis did. Eva stood, walked over to him, took one of his hands, and said, “Jahlil was approved for the TANF program.”
“Really,” Lewis said, happy. “If you only knew what this is going to mean to him. I’ll call his father and give him the good news after work.”
“I’m so glad.”
“I’ve been where he is,” Lewis said. “If there was someone like you who did for me what you’re doing for him right now, I could’ve …”
“Shhh,” Eva said, pecking Lewis on the lips. “You’re the one that’s doing it, I’m only helping.”
Lewis shook his head. “Do you know how much I love you?”
“Yeah, but tell me again anyway.”
“So much that it’s gonna take me the rest of my life to prove it to you.”
Eva smiled. “I love the sound of that. I’ll be here.”
A smile still on his face, Lewis pulled up to his house but stopped short when he saw a man at his front door, making an effort to look into his living room window. Lewis drove the Escalade into the driveway, climbed out, and said, “Hey, can I help you?”
The man was Lewis’s height but bigger, broader. He was clean shaven, clean-cut, but wore baggy jeans and a plaid button-down shirt, the tails hanging out over his belt line. He turned, startled, a smile immediately coming to his face.
“Pete home?”
“What?” Lewis said, walking over to the man, glancing at the car that was parked in front of his house. It was a late-model black Chrysler 300 with tinted windows.
“Pete here? I was supposed to meet him. This is his address, right?” the man said, digging into his jeans, pulling out a scrap of paper, looking down at it, then handing it to Lewis. Lewis eyed it quickly, then gave it back.
“Right address, but no Pete lives here.”
“Damn,” the man said grinning wider. “My bad. Must’ve wrote it down wrong. Sorry to bother you, brah.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lewis said, continuing to watch as the man climbed into his car, drove off, and turned the corner out of sight.
85
Caleb waited twenty minutes before he finally saw Blue being walked over to sit on the other side of the thick glass window Caleb was sitting in front of.
Caleb read the lips of the guard when he told Blue, “Five minutes.”
Blue’s wrists were cuffed, but he picked up the phone to his left, placed it in the crook of his shoulder, and pressed it to his ear.
The first words came hard to Caleb. “Sorry, man.”
“What you got to be sorry about?” Blue said, trying to smile. “You did the right thing. I was the one who fucked up.”
“I wanted you to come with me. If only you woulda—”
“But I didn’t, and that’s what is, so I don’t want you think
ing about that. You got more important stuff you gotta take care of, like your family, right?”
“Yeah,” Caleb said.
“So do that, all right, man?” Blue said. “Do that, and I’ll see you when I get out.”
“Yeah, okay,” Caleb said, feeling sorry for his friend.
“Love you, man,” Blue said.
“You too,” Caleb said, watching as Blue hung up the phone, stood, and was taken by the guard back to his cell.
Later Caleb could think of no one else he wanted to go to, no one else he could share the news about Blue with other than Sonya. He stood in the kitchen of her apartment and told her how if he hadn’t walked off that van, he would’ve been sitting in a cell beside Blue.
Sonya walked closer to Caleb. “You what? You were going to break in somewhere and rob them? For what?”
“What have you been saying about me all these years? Why did you leave me? Because I’m a failure, because I don’t make any money.”
“And this was the way you were going to prove me wrong?”
“We need money! Did you hear what Jahlil is doing?”
“We’ve gotten it before!”
“And how do you think that happened?” Caleb said, stepping away from Sonya. “When the rent was way behind here, when you needed all that to catch up on everything else, how do you think I got that to give you?”
Sonya appeared afraid to ask. “Tell me you didn’t rob—”
“I borrowed the money from a shark, but I had to rob to pay it back.”
“What the fuck, Caleb!” Sonya said, throwing her hands up. “You’re going around stealing money but saying you wanna live back here, be back in Jahlil’s life. What do you think you’ll be teaching—”
“I had to do it, okay?”
“You don’t have to do nothing!” Sonya said, emotional. “What if you didn’t get them the money—”